As Infinite As The Universe We Hold Inside
by singyourmelody
Summary: Austin and Ally, in the aftermath of the season three finale. He chose her over everything. And what now? Two shot.
1. Infinity Times Infinity Times Infinity

"As Infinite As The Universe We Hold Inside"

by: singyourmelody

Disclaimer: Title is from "Sun" and heading below is from "Page 28" both by Sleeping at Last, both amazing songs. Don't own Austin &amp; Ally or any of the characters. This is after the season three finale. They certainly know how to end things, don't they? And really, I couldn't just leave it there. . .

* * *

|| i'm trusting that there's such a thing as elegance in dissonance ||

.

.

.

He's snoring softly from the bunk next to hers.

It's that night.

The one where he grabbed his music career with both hands and threw it away as hard as he could. For her. For them.

She chokes down that panicking feeling that seems to come creeping up every time she thinks of what he's done. This was his dream. She's ruined his dream.

But then. . . _I love you, Ally._

_I love you, too, Austin._

She bites back a smile. He loves her.

He loves her and she is headed off on her first major tour and all of her dreams are coming true.

He mumbles something and she can hear him tossing and turning a bit, her throat constricting as that feeling rises again.

He chose her over everything. And what now?

.

.

.

She's slightly terrified before her first show, because it's in this big concert hall and she's never sung for quite this many people before and what if she forgets the chord progression for _The Me That You Don't See_ because even though she's played it thousands of times, she hasn't practiced it in a while and proper preparation always prevents poor performance and she can't perform poorly for these people, she just can't.

He laughs when she tells him all this, his hands rubbing up and down her arms.

"Ally, breathe."

She exhales loudly and he smiles at her and maybe that's all she needs. He believes in her so she believes too.

She plays the song flawlessly of course and he winks at her from the side of the stage and her heart may stop for just a moment, because she might be standing in the middle of the rest of her life. And how does it all feel?

Later, she curls up next to him on the couch and his thumb draws circular patterns over her fuzzy pajama-bottomed knees, while they research fun things to do in Montgomery, Alabama, their next stop.

.

.

.

His phone starts ringing a lot. He always steps out to take the call.

She knows it's his lawyer and that he's trying so hard to keep all of this stuff out of her tour, but she wants to know. She's his girlfriend. She's worried about him, about them really.

It's stupid, she knows this, but music was always their thing and if they don't sing and write together then what do they do?

Who are they then?

He loves music. And she loves him. She desperately wants to find a way to get him back into it, wants him to have what he loves.

She looks at him questioning when he gets back on the bus.

"Tom, again," he says, sitting next to her.

"What did he say?"

"They are still sorting through all of the details. Nothing new to report," he says.

"I don't understand why Jimmy is being so crazy about this," she says.

"It's not that I told everyone about us. It's that I directly defied what he told me to do. At least that's what Tom thinks," he replies, picking at a thread on his hoodie sleeve.

"So it's better for you to have no fans, then to lose a few because you told about me?" she asks.

"I guess."

When he looks up at her, he looks sad and maybe even a little scared. And she hates that she made him feel this way, that she took away the thing he loves most. Well, second most.

Maybe that's what she should be the most sorry for. Not that she stole away his musical dream, but that she let things get so far between the two of them that she ended up replacing his dream. That she let things progress to the point where really, they can't live without the other. Wouldn't want to.

And that's supposed to be beautiful and amazing and the things they write novels about, but it feels marred somehow. Fractured. A stained glass window, so delicate and colorful and intricately created to form a striking picture, smashed with a small rock, leaving pieces lying on the cold ground. And what's left is still beautiful somehow, despite the shards of glass and sharp edges and the potential for so much harm, because the light shines through creating bright, dancing shadows.

Broken, dancing, vibrant shadows. Is that what they have become now?

He reaches up and brushes some hair behind her ear and her eyes flutter closed.

"I hate this," she says softly.

He pulls his hand back. "What?"

She opens her eyes. "I hate what is happening to you."

He shrugs. "I chose this."

But she shakes her head. "I didn't ask you to."

His eyes flash angrily for a quick moment, before his composure slides back in place. "What do you mean?"

"I never wanted you to be unhappy."

He nods. "It takes a lot more than just music to make me happy, Ally."

"But everything you've worked for, what we worked for, is gone," she says.

And he shrugs again. "It wasn't even a choice."

She knows this should make her feel good. That she matters more than anything, but deep down, she also wonders if she can ever be enough for him. If it's even fair to ask herself to be.

"You wanna know why?" he continues, inching closer to her.

"Why?"

He reaches forward and quickly brushes his lips against hers. "Because when you kiss me, I know it's not a choice."

"And when our fingers interlock like this," he says, joining their hands, "I know it's not a choice."

He pulls her closer. "And when I can hold you like this, and you fit perfectly up against me, I know it's not a choice."

She looks up at him then, as he continues. "You're it, Ally. You've always been it. You'll always be it. And I know it's probably crazy or stupid or ridiculous to say that because we're seventeen, but it's true. I'm never going to get over you. And I don't want to. There's no choice. It's you. Before everything."

She looks down to try to keep her tears in because she doesn't want to cry. Happy tears, sad tears, she's not even sure of anything other how much her heart feels like it might explode. She kisses him then and doesn't stop for a long while.

.

.

.

City after city passes and she's become accustomed to the white lines rushing past the windows of the bus.

And she's knows certain things now. Like the way his hair sticks up when he first wakes up and the soft lull of his voice as the last thing she hears before she goes to sleep and the way she shivers when his lips ghost over the back of her neck in her dressing room.

He's always with her. And on some level it's overwhelming, because it's always been Austin and Ally, but it's never been _only_ Austin and Ally. It's always been Trish and Dez and her dad and Carrie and Kira and his parents but now. Now it's just him and it's just her and he chose her. She is having a hard time remembering anything other than this when his fingers are doing that certain thing to her scalp and her hands are somehow under his shirt and she knows she really shouldn't take it off, that they are treading very close to dangerous territory because they are finally stable for the first time in their relationship, although honestly, even that could be questioned and really they need to stop.

He pulls away from her.

"What?" she asks.

"You're right. We should probably stop."

"Huh?"

"You just said we need to stop," he says.

"Oh, uh, right. . . I don't want to," she says, quietly, after a moment.

He breathes out and smiles. "Me either," he says, his voice soft.

"Really?"

"Ally, are you kidding me? I am alone with you twenty-four seven. You have no idea of how hard it is to not like jump you every five seconds," he says, his cheeks turning pink, his eyes cast down.

She reaches over and moves his head so that he is looking at her. "Don't be embarrassed, okay? We need to talk about this stuff. I actually like that I feel like I can talk to you about it."

He nods. "So . . . boundaries."

"Boundaries."

"No more walking through the bus in your towel," he begins.

"What? You do that all the time!" she says.

"So tell me to stop."

"Stop. If I have to stop, then so do you," she states.

"Fine, I will."

"Good."

"Good. So no towels. What else?" he asks.

She thinks for a moment, but he interrupts, saying, "Can I also veto the short-shorts?"

"My sleeping shorts?"

He nods. "Yeah, those really need to go."

"I love those shorts! They're so comfortable," she insists.

"Yeah, because they are barely there," he states.

She scrunches up her face before saying, "Fine. I'll get rid of them."

"What else?" he asks.

"Are you waiting until you're married?" she says, before she can even process the words. Her eyes grow wide. So do his.

"Um, I don't know. Are you?"

"I thought I was. But now. . ."

He leans his head back and groans.

"What?" she asks, punching his arm gently.

"You can't tell me this stuff," he says.

"What? Why? I thought we were being honest with each other."

"We are. But. . ."

"But what?" she says, crossing her arms expectantly.

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. He tries a second time but no words come out.

Finally, he says, "You and I really need to get on the same page about this."

She can tell that's not what he really wanted to say.

"Okay, but really are we even at that point yet?" she asks.

"Aren't we?" he questions and she thinks back to just the night before when she might have been in his lap, her legs on either side of his and his hands were running up and down her back and she never wanted to be anywhere else ever and okay, maybe he has a point.

"Do you think we're ready?" she says.

"Yes. And no."

"Which is it?"

"I don't know. When I think about it, it's definitely a no. But when you kiss me like that and there's nobody but me and you and I don't know. In those moments, it feels like a yes," he says.

She nods. "I know what you mean. But you're right. If we really think about it for just a moment, it's a no, right?"

He nods.

"Then we're not ready. Not really," she says.

"I agree."

"Okay, so we need to stop somewhere before things get too out of hand. But where is that place exactly?" she asks.

He smirks. "How about you stay on that side of the bus and I'll stay over here?"

"Oh, really? You think you'll be able to resist?"

"Definitely. You don't have all of the power over me, Miss Dawson," he says.

"Just enough to get you to give up your music career," she says, smirking, his face falling as her words shower over him. She stutters. "Oh, Austin, I didn't mean that. Not like that, I was just. . ."

But he shakes his head. "You're right. You do have the power, Ally." He stands up. "I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Austin, wait, please," she says, but he disappears into the bathroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

.

.

.

He still talks to her but it's not the same.

And this is what she feared, isn't it?

That this boy that she loves more than anything would grow to resent her for giving it all up.

He still talks to her but it's not the same. There's something below his words and maybe she's imagining it all, but she hopes and prays it's not the thing she fears it is.

Because she's not ready to let go of this yet, isn't ready to let go of him yet. And maybe that makes her selfish, but her love for him isn't, she just knows it.

After three days of strained conversation, she pulls him on stage to sing with her for her encore. He looks shocked and a little worried at first and she hopes they're not breaking any laws because neither of them would do well in prison, but this is their music, their passion, their relationship spelled out in rhyming lyrics and floating melodies. How can anyone not want this for them?

They harmonize together perfectly, they always have, and the crowd in St. Louis absolutely loves it.

He hugs her backstage and she thinks maybe she is forgiven for her careless words.

"I love you," she whispers in his ear. "And we are going to find a way for you to get back onstage."

He nods. "I love you too."

.

.

.

He gets the call the next day. Jimmy's seen the video of them singing and really, they should have known they couldn't sing together without someone putting it online.

The conference call is heated and he asked her for some privacy for it, but she can still hear both of them yelling from her position perched on a picnic table outside of the bus.

It's silent for a few moments, so she cautiously enters the bus.

He looks frustrated. And angry. And sad.

"Well?"

"No more public appearances on another label's tour," he says.

"What does that mean?" she asks.

"No more-"

"Singing," she finishes. "I am so sorry, Austin, I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

But he shakes his head. "I just don't understand why he can't forgive me. I freaking broke up with his daughter and he got over that. But this, this is unforgivable? Why?" he asks.

She doesn't have an answer.

"I asked him about the next ten years. He owns me for the next ten years and what? I'm just not supposed to date anyone for that time?" he continues.

"What did he say?"

"Not for five. At least not seriously. Something about my target market and aging with them and doing activities that are age-appropriate for them. . ."

"Five years from now, you'll be twenty-two. You're not supposed to seriously date anyone until you're twenty-two?" she asks.

He nods. "And that's a pretty big problem since I met you when I was fifteen. You and I waited long enough. I didn't want to wait anymore. I _don't_ want to wait anymore."

She pulls him close and he holds onto her so tightly, as if she might be taken away from him, just like the career he worked so hard to create.

And in that moment she feels like everything he has. And she realizes that she is.

.

.

.

|| End of Part One||


	2. Fall in Love Every Time We Open Our Eyes

"As Infinite As The Universe We Hold Inside"

by: singyourmelody

Disclaimer: Title is from "Sun" and heading below is from "Pacific Blues" both by Sleeping at Last, both amazing songs that I listened to a lot while I was writing this. I highly recommend. Don't own Austin &amp; Ally or any of the characters. This is after the season three finale. Special thanks to Sir Mix-a-Lot. You'll see why.

* * *

|| i guess the truth is that the truth is of complex design||

.

.

.

By her fourteenth show, he's moved past denial and anger and bargaining and has dived headfirst into depression.

But he's Austin Moon, the constant bundle of energy and excitement and pure joy, so his depression is really only a dull muting of what he always is.

It's almost hidden really, but she can see it. It's the light in his eyes. It's fading.

Her fourteenth show is at a small club near Phoenix and it's wrong, all wrong. The lighting too dim, the smoky air makes it hard to breathe, the set list feels off, and she can barely handle the sadness she sees when he watches her. It's just wrong.

The people in the club barely pay attention to her and don't even notice when she finishes.

"Thank you," she mumbles quietly into the microphone, before hurrying off stage and grabbing his hand. They are on the bus and pulling out of there in record time.

She shakes her head in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Ally," he says.

"That show was just awful, right?"

"Not your best one," he agrees, "but it wasn't your fault. I don't know why the label booked you there. They didn't seem to be your target audience at all."

"I hate that they just ignored me. And I hate that I couldn't get them interested at all," she says.

"True. You did try though."

She closes her eyes. "Did I really start singing _Party in the USA_?"

He laughs, although it's not his full normal one, the one she has come to know so well. "Yeah, you really did."

She opens her eyes. "I thought they needed some energizing!"

"And Miley Cyrus was the way to do that?" he asks.

"Hey!" she says, punching his shoulder lightly, laughing.

He stops laughing then and sits down and stares at his hands for a moment. She can't stand to see what is happening to him, can't stand that he isn't bouncing off the walls. He's always bouncing off the walls, always so full of life.

So she does the first thing she can think of and picks up her iPod and plugs in her speakers, selecting a song from her workout mix.

As the bass starts pumping through the bus, he looks up, "Wha-?"

But he's interrupted as she starts singing.

"I like big butts and I cannot lie  
You other brothers can't deny  
When a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist  
And a round thing in your face  
You get sprung!"

She's singing loudly, well, rapping almost, and dancing around like an idiot and he is laughing so hard, but then he stops and stands next to her with a serious look on his face and she momentarily worries that she's somehow made everything worse. Until he opens his mouth and starts singing with her. . .

"Deep in the jeans she's wearing  
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring  
Oh baby, I wanna get with you  
And take your picture  
My homeboys tried to warn me  
But that butt you got makes me so-  
Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin  
You say you wanna get in my Benz?  
Well, use me, use me  
'Cause you ain't that average groupie."

She's the one who can't control her laughter now. She stands on the couch and starts jumping up and down, taking over lead vocals.

"I've seen them dancin'  
To heck with romancin'  
She's sweat, wet,  
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette  
I'm tired of magazines  
Sayin' flat butts are the thing  
Take the average man and ask him that  
She gotta pack much back"

He joins her and they are jumping and flailing and singing as loudly as they possibly can.

"So, fellas!" he sings

"Yeah!" she responds.

"Fellas!"

"Yeah!"

"Has your girlfriend got the butt?" he sings.

"Hell yeah!" she shouts, before blushing profusely. She's not usually one to curse. Or sing about her butt, but here they are.

"Tell 'em to shake it!"

"Shake it!" she repeats.

"Shake it!" he sings.

"Shake it!"

"Shake that healthy butt!"

"Baby got back!" they sing together before repeating "LA face with Oakland booty," several times.

"What is an Oakland booty anyway?" she shouts over the music.

"I have no idea," he says, shrugging. He keeps jumping and together they shake their way through the whole song.

They collapse next to each other when the song is over and they are breathing heavily and she's sweaty and exhausted but also feels a million times better.

"Phoenix who?" she says as she leans over to kiss him.

"Jimmy who?" he says softly before her lips touch his.

.

.

.

Trish joins them in San Diego and she realizes how much she's missed her best friend. She's happy for her success but she wishes it didn't mean so much time apart.

They talk for hours at the small diner outside of the arena where she'll play that night and Austin pretends to be interested but she's pretty sure he's watching the game on his phone and texting Dez.

They eat and chat about Trish's latest escapades and how she's barely managing to actually _manage_ all of her clients and somehow all of this feels so very grown up. How long ago was it that they were all at Sonic Boom anyway?

She reaches over and grabs a couple of his fries and it's not until she's on the last one that she realizes that she didn't even ask. She's Ally. She always asks permission first.

He doesn't notice, though, instead helping himself to one of her onion rings and looking back down at the game and is this who they are now?

She thinks about this later that night when she's trying to fall asleep. Can't stop thinking about it really.

So with Trish's soft inhales and exhales coming from the bunk above her, she tiptoes across the small aisle and crawls in next to him.

He turns when he feels the bed dip next to him and says, "Hey. Are you okay?"

She nods and wraps her arm around his mid-section.

"Sometimes I think about the fact that you already know all my stories," she whispers.

He pulls back so that he can see her. "Okay. . ."

"And you know all my songs. And if you've already heard all of my stories and you helped write a bunch of my songs, then what do we have left to say to each other?"

His brow furrows a bit. "I'm not sure I understand, Ally."

She brushes a bit of his hair out of his eyes. "Don't you ever worry that we know each other inside out and we're only seventeen?"

He nods and she thinks he might be getting it.

"But that's a good thing, isn't it?" he asks. "I know you. And you know me. And we are still choosing to do this. To be this to each other."

"Right, but what happens when it stops being a good thing?" she responds.

"If."

"If?" she repeats.

"Not when."

She looks away, but he lifts his hand to bring her eye line back to his.

"If, not when," he repeats.

"If, not when," she agrees.

They lie there for a moment, before he breathes out and says, "Are you worried that I will get tired of you or that you will get tired of me?"

"Neither. Both. I don't know," she says, quietly.

He lays his head back down. "Huh."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. I'm not really sure what to say here. I've never thought about this before," he says, and suddenly it feels very final.

"What brought this on?" he asks after a moment's pause.

She hesitates because this is really important to her and she doesn't want him to tell her to stop worrying, that it will all be fine, that it's not a big deal. But when she looks at him, he looks so concerned that she knows she can trust him. She's already given him her heart. And he's always taken such good care of it. . .

"I ate your fries without asking."

"What?"

"Today at the diner, I took your fries without asking," she says again.

"So? I eat your food without asking all the time."

"I know, but that's because you're you. I always ask. But I didn't. And it made me think that maybe we are too comfortable with each other," she says.

He nods. "We are pretty much living together."

"Right."

He thinks for a moment. "If my music career ever gets back on track-"

"When," she interrupts.

"Huh?"

"When, not if."

He stares at her, as if he's not quite willing to believe her, but he continues on anyway. "When my music career gets back on track, we are both going to be so crazy. Between recording and tours and everything . . . it's never going to be like this again. Me and you. Only me and you."

She bites back a smile. "So we need to enjoy this time now?"

"Exactly."

"And what if you get tired of my stories?" she asks again.

"Of course we'll get tired of each others' stories at some point, right? But won't we always have new stories too?" he asks.

She thinks for a moment. He's right. "Yes, we will. Every day is a new story."

"And some of them we'll share and some we won't."

She snuggles up next to him. "I like that. And I'm glad we get to share this one."

"Me too."

"Can I stay here tonight?" she asks.

"Um, what about the boundaries?"

She holds up her pinky. "I won't try anything if you don't."

He smiles then and links his pinky with hers. "Deal."

.

.

.

They reunite with Dez in LA and it's almost like old times.

She can barely contain her excitement and enthusiasm because this is _Los Angeles_ and she is playing here and people know her and have come to hear her sing. It's amazing really.

The show is easily the best of her tour and she's not sure if that's because the crowd is so receptive or because her family is all back together again. She has to think it's the latter.

They argue about where to eat afterwards. Dez wants to take them to some performance art restaurant where the art is your food and Trish is pushing for them to make an appearance at the new club that just opened, but she instead manages to convince them to get takeout delivered to the bus.

Time moves too fast as they sit there cross legged, passing around Chinese takeout containers, sharing stories from their new lives, and laughing. So much laughter. He almost looks like his old self again. She is glad.

And then just as soon as it started, it's over. Trish has to go back into the city to meet with her boy band client to prep for a show the next day and Dez tells them that Carrie is waiting for him at her home.

She hugs them both a little too tightly and so does he and then they're gone.

A deep silence settles over the bus after their departure.

"I miss them," he says.

"Me too."

They turn in for an early night because really what else is there to do? She feels like she's conquered the world tonight and also like she's lost something important. She's not sure how she could feel both of those things simultaneously, but she wonders if this is what it means to grow. To be grown.

"I'm proud of you, Ally," he says softly from his bunk after the lights are turned down.

"Thank you," she says, and it's not just for the compliment. It's for everything he does for her and is for her every single day.

With his words humming in her ears, she falls fast asleep.

.

.

.

Tom calls again the next day.

Jimmy has agreed to meet with him in person.

He has to go. She knows this. She wants him to be able to work things out.

Still, sitting at the airport waiting for him to leave feels every shade of awful.

"I'm sorry I'll miss the end of your tour," he says.

"I'm almost done. I will be back to Miami before you know it," she says, trying to sound brave. She's surprised to find that she actually does.

"I don't know what to say to him."

"Apologize? Again?" she offers.

"I'm not sure I want to work with him anymore," he states.

"What do you mean?"

"Tom said that there might be a way to get me out of my contract altogether," he says.

"And then you'd be free to sign with someone else?" she asks.

He nods. "But then. . . Jimmy gave me my start. I hate how he's handled this whole thing, but I'm not blameless either and he was the first one to believe in me."

She shakes her head. "Not the first one."

He kisses her forehead. "What do you think I should do?"

"Read the room when you get there? There is something to be said for history," she says, a small smile tugging the corners of her lips.

"True," he says, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Maybe you guys just really need to have a sit-down, drag-it-all-out-into-the-open kind of conversation. In person. Maybe then you can come to some sort of understanding?" she suggests.

He nods and checks the time. "Better head through security."

She reaches up and hugs him. "I don't want to say goodbye, so how about 'Catch you later'?"

He laughs because she is so awkward when she says things like that, she knows this but she says them anyway.

"Catch you later, Ally."

He kisses her quickly and then turns to get in line.

He looks back once and gives a small wave and it's enough.

.

.

.

She plays her last show at an open stage amphitheater and the sun is setting in the distance and it seems like the perfect ending in so many ways.

As she belts out her last song, "Finally Me," she thinks of Dez and Trish and _him_ and wishes they could be with her but in some ways, she's glad they aren't. She needed to finish this on her own. She has finished this on her own.

She sings,

"I'm finally me  
Got everything I need  
What you get is what you see,  
I'm finally me  
And I've never felt so free  
There's no one else that I'm trying to be  
I'm finally me"

And she means it.

She climbs back on the bus and breathes out. She's completed her tour. She fulfilled one of her dreams and she can't stop smiling.

Her phone buzzes. It's a text from him.

_In talks with Jimmy. He's still mad that I didn't trust him. But he's starting to understand._

She writes back.

_What did you say to start to convince him?_

He answers.

_That you know every word to 'Baby Got Back' and that I had to get you before some other guy figured that out._

She responds quickly.

_You did not!_

He writes back.

_Just kidding. I told him the truth._ _That you make me better. In every way. _

She replies.

_You make me better too. I'll be home soon._

He responds.

_Counting the days._

And she is too.

.

.

.

|| End ||


End file.
